Count the change, and keep my heart
by anglaland
Summary: Alfred and Arthur go Christmas shopping. USUK, omegaverse, mpreg.


For the USUKnetwork Holiday Exchange. My secret Santa, LiberteaIsLife, requested "omegaverse pregnant Arthur and his mate Alfred going Christmas shopping". Happy Holidays!

* * *

Arthur turns to look pointedly at his mate. "I'm pregnant, not made of glass."

Alfred smiles guilty, his scent betraying him. "I didn't say anything," he says, but Arthur lifts an eyebrow in challenge. "Maybe I am a little worried," he admits. "But Dr. Oxenstierna said he was considering bed rest!"

"Yes, and _then_ he said he would hold off on it," Arthur replies. "I'm only six months along, love. You've got three more months to coddle me to your heart's content."

Alfred manages _not_ to blurt out that he already has those months planned out. Instead, he pulls Arthur closer, wrapping his arm around the other to rest his hand against the side of Arthur's swollen stomach.

The crowd around them is relentless, hundreds of others dashing to find gifts for their loved ones. Normally, Alfred & Arthur wouldn't wait until the week before Christmas, Arthur preferring to carefully identify the best gifts for their friends and family, and Alfred tasked with finding the best deals for them (and Alfred was already planning to induct their unborn child into the art of extreme couponing). But between the toll the pregnancy had taken on Arthur and the last-minute project Alfred's boss had assigned him to, they hadn't had the chance.

 _Of all the years for this to happen…!_ Alfred cursed silently, before putting the thought away. For the last three months, the bond between him and Arthur had strengthened, the two of them almost frighteningly in sync. It had its benefits––Alfred was still living off the sweet sex the two of them had last week, when he had come home with the exact craving Arthur was thinking of. But other times, the two of them could sense even the slightest hint of discontentment the other had.

Or the _baby_ could, even though Dr. Oxenstierna had said no one knew if that was true. Arthur could tease Alfred for being overdramatic all he wanted, but he wasn't taking the chance with their first child.

"I can't believe we had to park on the other side of this bloody mall," Arthur grumbles, interrupting Alfred from his thoughts. "Doesn't anyone shop in advance? Christmas is the same day every year!"

Alfred chuckles. "Not all of them have your finicky organizational skills, babe." He discreetly elbows a beta who is getting a little too insistent at pushing their seven bag ensemble through his side. "Besides, we've never seen the mall look this Christmas-y!"

"Yes, we have. They put up these decorations _before_ Thanksgiving this year," Arthur says, without bothering to hide the disgust in his voice. "Honestly, it's shameful...they get worse every year…"

"I'd play _All I Want is You from September_ if I could," Alfred suggests with pure innocence. It's worth the look of absolute horror that crosses Arthur's face. In the next second, he's regretting it, mind already jumping to the swaths of Facebook posts he's read about "bad vibes" and "negative energy" or "my pregnant omega yelled at me once and my baby came out with no scent and the doctors won't admit we're right!"

Well, maybe not the latter. But there have been a lot of Facebook posts. Arthur called it all useless drivel, and Alfred always agreed...until it was 2 am and he was watching pregnant omega vlogs.

Too sharp for his own good, Arthur catches the thread of guilt immediately. "What are you worrying about now?" he sighs, curling closer to Alfred as they two of them make their way to their destined shop.

(Alfred was used to the translucency of his scent. Their first meeting wasn't as smooth as he liked think––it went a little something more like: a younger him, star struck at the handsome omega sprawled across a classroom desk, the other snidely advising him to _keep your scent low, or you'll tell the whole school about how much you'd like to fuck me._ )

"I just want to keep you safe," he murmurs, almost shy to say it. No one around them cares, but Arthur looks at him with rapt attention––and some confusion.

"...Christmas music isn't going to kill me," Arthur says. A beat passes. "And neither will this pregnancy. I know you're worried, but it'll be okay." Looking up at Alfred, Arthur grins wickedly, the look out of place in his unassuming maternity clothes. "I didn't fight off all those omegas to die before giving you your first child." His eyes flick over to Alfred's mating mark, a mirror to the mark on his own neck. "I'm certain I get all my energy from imagining their sour looks once our child is born."

Alfred bursts out laughing. "Our high school reunion is in six months too. I've totally got to RSVP yes."

"Hmmm...the look on Francis' face _would_ be perfect...and he said I wouldn't be mated 'til I was thirty!" Arthur's eyes are bright, his pace quickening in excitement. The residual excitement infects Alfred and he follows, the two of them cackling over whatever petty work they'll put into showing up.

In no time at all, they've arrived to the front of the woodworking store that holds the last gift on their list: an expensive feather board for Alfred's brother, Matthew. Privately, Alfred wishes Mathew had stuck with hockey as primary hobby–– at least then he could understand what he was buying. He had no idea what this 'feather board' did, but he had it on good authority (and by that, he meant his coworker Ludwig had recommended it in a single sentence with no elaboration) that this was a premier (and expensive) item in the field.

He'd get a gift receipt just in case.

For such a niche shop, it is annoyingly busy. Alfred keeps Arthur close as they scan the shelves for the item.

"Is this it?" Arthur asks, gesturing to one board.

"No, the one in the picture is bigger," Alfred replies. "What about this one?"

"Wrong shade of tan," Arthur answers, already flicking his eyes back to the shelves. Alfred grumbles underneath his breath, putting the item away and crouching to check the names of the other boards on the price tags.

He doesn't find it. Scowling, he stands up, already preparing to annoyingly hang around the cashier until some assistance could be rendered. As he turns, he catches a display off to the side behind Arthur––highlighting the exact item they need.

"Arthur!" Alfred exclaims, and the other man jumps at the shout in his ear. Alfred cringes, and lowers his voice. "I think it's behind you!"

Arthur turns, and his eyes widen in recognition. "That's it," he confirms. "Only one left––we got lucky!"

As if a greater power conspires against them, they catch a pair of alphas also pointing at the table. In growing horror, one of them begins walking towards it.

"Arthur," Alfred hisses. "You jinxed it!"

Arthur is already moving away from him. Just as the other alpha begins to reach for the feather board, Arthur body checks him, swiping the item from under the other's nose. In one of the fakest looks of innocence Alfred has ever seen cross his mate's face, Arthur says, "Oh, please excuse me."

The alpha looks ready to snap, before catching the mark on Arthur's neck and the swell of his stomach. Alfred comes up behind his mate, hand possessively placed in the small of the other's back. "Is there a problem?" he asks, struggling to suppress his mirth.

Glaring, the alpha has no choice but to back down. "Keep your omega close," he says, almost spitting the words out. Arthur looks at Alfred and smirks.

Alfred's laughter is slipping through his teeth. "Why did I think pregnancy would make you calmer?"

Arthur raises his eyebrows, maintaining the picture of innocence. "Whatever do you mean? I've always been calm and proper." He pauses for a second, struggling not to laugh as well. "Now if you'll join me, we have a purchase to make."

They walk out with their spoils of war. "Hope you paid close attention to that, poppet" Arthur says to his stomach, arms curving underneath.

"Oh god," Alfred mutters. "If our child takes after you, we'll be stuck in the principal's office every single day."

"I _met_ you in detention," Arthur reminds him. A few seconds later, "...maybe it'd be best if our first child was a little _calmer_."

 _First child._

The words were almost impossible to comprehend. The two of them had been trying for so long, and Alfred had comforted his mate through too many sleepless nights, as Arthur confessed to feelings of inadequacy and self-blame. But they were here, at six months even with all the difficulty Arthur was having, and they were going to _make it._

Alfred steals a glance at Arthur. The other man's face is flush, and Alfred can detect the weariness seeping into his mate's scent and body. But beyond that, a small yet triumphant grin coats his face, enthused at the conclusion to their Christmas shopping. Alfred ignores his worries, for once, not out of fear, but determination for the future, and kisses the head of the love of his life.


End file.
